Questioning My Reality
by Rookblonkorules
Summary: Snart must work to keep his teammate alive all the while waiting for a rescue he's not sure is coming.
1. Chapter 1

A/N So... at the end of October, my entire street ended up losing power for a week, so, because I had no way to work on any of my ongoing stories, and I ended up writing this in my notebook. It's complete, three chapters, but so far, I've only got this one typed up and edited. I'm in the process of preparing chapter two. It will likely be up by Saturday.

Anyways, credit where credit is due, this story was largely inspired by a story in the Flash fandom: Your Worst Nightmare by CG07, which is responsible for my current need to see the more caring side of Snart in fanfiction (and I definitely recommend it-with the warning that it is dark). Hence, the reason why I wrote this: to see a more caring Snart. Because there's a heart in there for sure. That's just about the only thing these stories have in common, though.

 **Disclaimer:** Legends of Tomorrow and characters belong to DC comics and the CW.

* * *

"Shut up!"

Snart saw the punch coming far before the Idiot did.

Therefore, having been taken by surprise, the Idiot was left unable to react in time.

Snart himself would have dodged, would have blocked, would have braced himself, taken the hit with his dignity intact.

Ray, however, went down like a brick, sporting a bruised jaw and an even more injured pride.

"Keep your mouth shut, Raymond," Snart warned, eyes never leaving the man in front of them, nor the dangerous looking weapon (some kind of high-tech device-not quite like his Cold Gun, but similar. He didn't have the faintest idea what it did though. Nor did he feel like finding out.) he waved at the two of them. "You'll be more likely to get out of this in one piece."

There were three men standing before them. Snart found it prudent that his attention be centered on the one who was more of a threat, currently the man holding sci-fi ray gun a mere few feet away from them.

"Yes, Raymond," the gun holder parroted. "Listen to your friend.

Ray grunted, wiping blood from his chin, and climbed unsteadily to his feet.

"Your friends think they can steal from us?" the man demanded angrily. "Where are they?"

"Sorry," Snart said, completely unapologetic. He smirked. "It's just us."

"Want me to hit you too?"  
"You can, but it's not going to bring you the answers you want."

The man stared at him several minutes longer, looking like he was seriously considering punching Snart too.

Then, he settled back on his heels, a satisfied smile taking over his features.

"No," he said, "but your team will come back for you. If Rip Hunter is half the man I've heard tell of, then I'll come for you."

"And if he does," Ray said, speaking more carefully now. Something Snart decided to give him credit for, "what makes you think he'll just hand over what you want?"

"Because," the man answered, "it will be your lives he's gambling with. So pray that he does."

* * *

Snart cursed internally.

If the team came for them (and they would. The lot was sentimental that way), then they'd be handing over exactly what this man wanted.

They were in a cell.. Very similar to the one on board the Waverider, Rip was noticing. He considered the possibility that maybe this was an earlier design.

"Look at it this way," Ray was saying. Snart wondered if he actually thought he had somethign useful to say or if he was just trying to convince himself, "he's underestimating them. Rip will never give him what he wants. Not with the world at stake. The team comes, he's not going to know what hit him. And if they don't, well… two lives are a small price to pay when the world's at stake."

"Something tells me this man knows how to play his cards right," Snart said. He ignored the more morose portion of Ray's statement. He'd never been one to dwell on the downside of things. And neither was Ray if he'd judged Pretty Boy right. "And he's got the perfect pawns in play." He pointed two fingers at Ray, pantomiming a gun. "Because he's right about one thing: Rip's not going to leave us behind." He didn't even need to mention the rest of the team.

Ray didn't argue his point. "You make it sound like attachments are a liability."

"They are when the fate of the world's at stake." Ray didn't miss how Snart used his exact phrasing from before.

"When did you start caring about the fate of the world?"

Something in the way he voiced the question gave Snart pause. Iit wasn't accusatory. It wasn't judgemental.

Which was, perhaps, the only reason Snart found himself answering.

"Not much of a world left to plunder if it's been taken over by an immortal tyrant, now is there?" Snart challenged.

"I would accept that," Ray said, "except we both know Savage's takeover doesn't happen during either of our lifetimes."

Snart cocked his head, amused. "Why do you care?"

"Well, I mean, we're a team, aren't we? It's a team's job to care."

"Hate to break it to you, Pretty Boy, but the only person on my team is Mick."

Ray looked considerably frustrated. Something Snart might have taken pleasure in under different circumstances. As it was, he had other things on his mind. "There's a lot of us on your team now," he pointed out.

Snart said nothing, giving the impression that he didn't really care. In reality, he'd rather chew on that information for a while, before tossing it away.

He had to give the Idiot some credit, however. He never wanted to give up.

"I see you've been using your time well."

Ray straightened, looking slightly confused as their captor presented himself. Snart chose not to move. He gave nothing away.

The man was grinning, hands loosely held behind his back.

"Which one of you's more willing to cooperate with me?"  
"What's going on?" Ray asked.

The man looked far too pleased with himself. It was the look of a man who was satisfied that everything was going according to his plan.

Snart hated that look.

"Your dear captain is working out the details for an exchange."

"Idiot," Snart muttered under his breath. Best case scenario, Rip was working out a trap. Some kind of trick.

He was confident Rip was at least _trying_ to come up with something- after all, his determination to save his family if he could was great. He wouldn't let anything get in the way of that if he could help it.

But the man was also annoying sentimental. He had his loyalties-which was fine… Snart had his too, but he oftentimes didn't know when to prioritize.

He was almost positive now was one of those times.

"Apparently, it would go a long way towards convincing him if he could hear one of you himself." His smile never dulled. "Which one of you boys wants to say 'hello?'"

Snart glared at him, daring him to try.

The man's eyes roved over the two of them, calculating. They finally settled on Ray.

"What about you?" he asked. Ray stiffened. Snart didn't react. "You like to talk. Why don't you put that mouth of yours to work?"

The man motioned his companions forward.

"It will go easier on you if you comply," the man advised. His first companion pressed his hand up against a panel embedded in the wall, and the transparent door of their prison faded away.

Snart was impressed.

He could only imagine how the Idiot felt.

The first man stepped over the threshold, gun trained on Snart.

When Snart didn't move, his attention shifted to Ray. Evidently, he had written him off as a threat.

His mistake.

Pride does come before the fall after all. One of Snart's teachers had said that… before he'd ditched school that is.

And their friend here was an arrogant bastard if he'd ever seen one. That would just serve to be his own undoing.

The second man stepped in…

...and that was when Snart made his move.

He lunged forward, twisting the gun out of the lackey's grasp before the man could fully bring it up to aim at him.

Snart had intended to take it, to use it for himself and get them both out of here. (Yes, both of them. Maybe he wasn't as completely adverse to sentiment as he liked to make out.)

The gun slipped out of his grasp, knocked away by the punch the man threw at him, sliding across the floor.

Out of reach.

The first man turned his attention away from Ray, aiming his own weapon at Snart.

Snart twisted the second man in front of him, using him as a human shield so that the charge from the first's gun hit him square in the chest.

The man jerked in his arms, going limp, and Snart let him slump to the floor.

He didn't care if the man was alive or dead.

Maybe his body armor had saved him.

Maybe it hadn't.

Snart didn't have the understanding of their weapons tech to know for sure.

He didn't care.

Ray had taken a shot at the first man, grappling with him at the other end of the cell.

Snart moved to step in.

"Stop!"

Snart didn't know why he listened, why he turned around, but there was something in the voice that was not to be trifled with.

Snart never used that term lightly.

Their captor had drawn what looked very much to be a modern day (and didn't the whole time travel thing bring up questions as to what exactly _modern day_ was) handgun, with a few well placed LEDS on the sides for show, that Snart was sure was much more likely to be similar to the future tech revolver Rip used.

Behind him, three more of his men stood, weapons drawn. He must have called for backup.

The "handgun," however, was aimed directly at Snart's heart.

"I'd put your hands up if I were you."

* * *

 **A/N** Thank you so much for reading! I'll see you soon with the next chapter!


	2. Chapter 2

**Warnings on this chapter for blood, non-graphic description of injury and... angst. Lots of angst. More angst than I remembered.**

 **AFanofYourStory: They're definitely both heroes- Snart just... hides that part of himself a little more deeply than some of the others. Except maybe Mick. Mick likes to hide his too. Thank you so much for the review though! I'm glad that you find them in character and I can't tell you how much hearing that means!**

 **As always, these characters belong to DC and the CW and are not mine... unfortunately. That would be fun, wouldn't it?**

* * *

 _The "handgun," however, was aimed directly at Snart's heart._

" _I'd put your hands up if I were you."_

Very slowly, Snart complied, raising his hands in the air.

The henchman still in the cell released his grip on Ray, who promptly raised his hands in the air as well (at least he was being smart for once), and stepped around him, retrieving his fallen comrade.

As he dragged the prone (or deceased) man back to his fellows, he glanced up at Snart. Even behind the tinted visor of his helmet, Snart could swear he felt the other man's eyes meeting his own.

He narrowed his eyes, refusing to be intimidated by this faceless soldier. He'd dealt with minions before.

And then movement caught his attention and his eyes flickered back to their captor. The captain, he was sure.

"You think you can try to overpower me?" the "Captain" said. There was a rage, something dangerous, present in his eyes, lurking beneath the carefully controlled surface. It was a deceptively calm anger. He was in control of his emotions, but that didn't mean he wasn't going to act on them.

"You think you can try to escape, make it back to your precious captain? No one leaves this ship unless I say so, and unless Rip Hunter returns the artifact that was stolen from me, you will not leave here alive."

"Yeah, well, Rip's trying to save the world," Ray said from his position behind Snart. Snart ground his teeth, willing him to shut up. Mouthing off when their captor was in such a mood was sure to end poorly. "And what are you? Just some mercenary, some pirate? Interested in his own gain?"

The Captain's face twisted into something between a pained grin and a frown.

"Your friend likes to talk," he said, addressing Snart.

"Ignore him. He tends to be like that sometimes," Snart said, eyes never leaving the gun leveled at his chest.

The man shook his head. "'You may think that I am heartless," he said, "but I can assure you I am not. I care deeply for my men. You have taken one of them from me." So he was dead then. "How would your Rip Hunter feel if I did the same?" He tilted his head, studying them. "An eye for an eye, if you will."

His finger tightened around the trigger and Snart braced himself, ready to face death with dignity.

He was ready to die.

At least he could be sure that Mick's face would be the last thing this man ever saw as his partner sought vengeance.

And maybe they'd tell Lisa he died a hero…

(Sentimental much, his brain sneered at him.)

Surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, it all depended on your take, the future handgun made as much noise as a modern one.

Snart flinched, a movement so small no one but he noticed it, but the man had shifted the gun's aim at the last possible second.

The bullet didn't hit him.

He wondered for an instant if the man could possibly have missed unintentionally.

But then he caught the man's eye, the satisfied smirk as he lowered the gun to his side.

He hadn't intended to hit Snart.

With a sinking feeling he couldn't quite explain settling in his gut, Snart turned around.

Ray was on his back, eyes wide with shock, gasping like a fish out of water.

His trembling hands were already grasping at the wound on his thigh, from which blood was leaking, a small puddle of it already gathering on the floor beneath him.

"And now," their captor said pocketing the weapon as if he hadn't just shot a man, "I'm afraid I'll have to inform your dear captain of this new development. And you," he looked pointedly at Snart, "have two choices. You can let your 'teammate,'" why did it sound like he used quotation marks around the word? "bleed out on the floor there." He gestured to Ray. "Or you can do what you can to stop the blood flow and save his life. It's your choice."

He added the last part almost carelessly and, with that, he turned on his heel walked away, leaving the choice in Snart's hands.

"Damn it, Idiot!"

Decision made, Snart dropped to his knees beside Ray. _Always the idiot._ "Had to go and put yourself in the line of fire, didn't you?"

"Actu'lly." Ray coughed, eyes screwed shut with pain. "That one's… kinda on you."

Though he'd never admit it, Snart was immensely relieved that Ray was still lucid enough to talk.

"S'rry," Ray slurred then, panting. "Didn't mean to…"  
"Save your breath, Raymond," Snart muttered. "I know when to take the blame."

Ray started to say something that might have been something about the man with the gun, but he broke out into another coughing fit and wisely took Snart's advice-for the time being at least.

Gently, a word Snart had never before attributed to himself, he pried Ray's hands away from his thigh, exploring the wound with his own hands.

He ignored the small whimper that resulted.

To all appearances, it was clean, not as messy as other wounds he'd seen during his time as a professional crook, and, if they were lucky, there wouldn't be a bullet for them to remove.

He wasn't sure they were dealing with the kind of gun to fire bullets. There wasn't a mark in the walls of the cells where one could have hit.

In any case, he didn't think it was a good idea to roll him over to try and find an exit wound and he sure as hell wasn't going to go _searching_ for a bullet or lack thereof.

They needed to put pressure on the wound. Stop the bleeding. The blood was flowing too sluggishly for it to have hit an artery, but he could still bleed out.

It would just take longer.

Having nothing else, he pressed his hands against the wound.

"Can't b'lieve," Ray managed, speaking up again, "got shot."

"With all the talking you do," Snart said, "I'm surprised it's taken this long."

A pause. Then he added, "And you're not allowed to die on me either. If you die, I don't think will ever forgive you and if Mick doesn't forgive you, then you're in for hell."

It wasn't much, but it got a small smile. That was something, at least.

It meant he wasn't dead yet.

"Keep that… in mind."

"You do that."

His own hands were already slick with blood.

Ray's face was already ashen, the mix blood loss and pain setting in.

Snart needed to get the blood loss under control.

"You need to control the bleeding." Snart grabbed Ray's hands, which had slackened, and pressed them back against the wound. "Keep your hands like this."

Ray grimaced, but nodded tightly.

Snart was not entirely unsympathetic.

He'd experienced a bullet wound once before after all. One of the first jobs he'd pulled with Mick.

A bullet had clipped in the side. In and then out again, but the didn't mean it hadn't hurt like hell.

It had.

He'd pretty much cursed everything in existence as the two of them had managed to retreat in safety where they'd cleaned the wound and then tightly bandaged his torso.

And then there'd been the painful process of keeping it clean, because, say what you will, even crooks knew to guard against the dangers of infection.

And that was another problem here.

Snart didn't have anything to prevent infection.

The cell did appear sterile, but-and he wasn't a doctor, mind- there was still that risk.

He could come up with makeshift bandages, tearing strips from his shirt (he was without his parka) and using them to stop the blood flow, if they were here for that long, but that brought in a whole new set of risks.

"Your captain's on his way." The voice came from behind. Smooth, melodic, calm.

He recognized it instantly.

Snart turned, a cold fury in his eyes. "You shot him."

"I did," the man acknowledged calmly,almost serenely. "An eye for an eye, as I mentioned before. Except I am not cold-hearted. I have given your comrade a fighting chance."

"You call bleeding out a fighting chance?"

"He is alive," the man said. "For now. His survival is left entirely up to fate." He eyed them as if they were some kind of zoo exhibit. "And you of course."

Snart clenched his jaw, but the man carried on.

"Quite frankly, I'm surprised you care, Mr. Snart." A sideways glance in his direction. An almost amused gleam in his eyes, a small smile. "Yes, I do know who you are. I like to find things out for myself, you see. Leonard Snart. Or would you prefer Captain Cold?" The smallest amount of satisfaction crossed his face at seeing Snart's quickly hidden surprise.

He took a step forward, stopping before the glass. His face was mere inches from it. "Perhaps _you_ are the coldhearted one here, Mr. Snart. You're a thief, playing by your own rules."

Snart's hands fisted at his sides, but he made no other move. "You don't know me," he said steadily.

"So enlighten me… why _do_ you care, Mr. Snart?"

"You like to find things out for yourself. Find that one out," Snart shot back.

The man didn't answer. Maybe he was one of the few who could appreciate having his own words thrown back at him.

Snart doubted that.

He didn't seem like the type.

"He's going to need medical attention," Snart said, shifting topics.

The man raised an eyebrow mildly. "That's what you're in there for," he answered.

"I don't mean me. I mean _real_ medical attention," Snart corrected, though he had no reason to believe that this man would be willing to help them, but, short of begging, he was willing to ask for it.

Ray was still conscious-and wasn't _that_ something he never thought he'd be relieved about-but he was still losing blood.

"Why should I help you?" the man asked finally. "You're prisoners of war…"

He ignored Snart's, "Well I wouldn't go that far."

"...and beyond that, you have already taken one of my men. I think I've been beyond generous with you both."

"Because," Snart didn't break eye contact, "if one of us dies, you're going to have more than an exchange on your hands. You're going to be dealing with vengeance. You're so confident when you have leverage, but can you handle them without it?"  
The man's left eye twitched, but other than that, he remained expressionless.

"You are in no position to be threatening me," he said, finally, and he walked away.

"What… happ'd?" Ray asked blearily when Snart was once again at his side.

"Nothing much," Snart said, sarcastically. He shot a dirty look at the empty space where their captor had just been. "Just had a bit of a heart to heart with our host."

Ray shifted his head to get a better look at him. "You're not… hurt?"  
Snart resisted the impulse to roll his eyes. "No, Raymond. You're the one who's hurt, in case you've forgotten."

Ray coughed again, a sound that Snart could have almost sworn was intended to be a laugh. "Hard to," he muttered.

It was half an hour later, by Snart's count, when something that could only be an explosion sounded in the distance.

The lights flickered and the floor rocked almost gently beneath them.

Ray's eyelids fluttered open. "Wha's happening?" he asked, words slurring together with the effort it took to get them out.

Snart glanced up at the ceiling, at the light fixtures, and then back down at Ray. "Rescue," he said simply.

* * *

 **So when I originally wrote this, I assumed that various unknowns would makes themselves, well, known to me when I sat down to rewrite this on my computer. My villain, however, never shared his name with me. He was willing to participate in my story this once, but he's, well, he's a private guy. Never introduced himself. Rude. I didn't push him, though. That wasn't really the point of this story.**

 **The next chapter is shorter, so it should be up tomorrow, or maybe even later on today if I get the chance, which isn't likely, but is still a possibility.**

 **As always, I'd love to hear what you think, what your favorite part/line was or just your overall impression. :D**

 **Thanks for reading!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Sooo... final chapter... and I'm so sorry it's so short. And that it's up so late. I've actually been out most of today (and much of yesterday too) so I didn't have much time to work on this. But it's ready now, even if it is short.**

 **AFanofYourStory: They definitely can be, lol. And thank you! I'm glad that he comes across as a good villain! And Ray's concern for others was why I liked the character. Perhaps the best example of this was in Failsafe. Thank you so much for your review!**

* * *

 _Snart glanced up at the ceiling, at the light fixtures, and then back down at Ray. "Rescue," he said simply._

"Len!" A familiar, and welcomed, voice called out to him.

Sara, Mick close behind her, had reached their prison.

Snart didn't think he'd ever been more relieved to see them.

Although there _had_ been that one time with Mick…

"Snart!" Mick's voice derailed his train of thought.

He aimed his gun at the panel and… Snart really didn't want to see how that would result.

Okay, so maybe he was a _little_ curious, but that still didn't seem like a good idea.

Sara grabbed his arm, shoving it down and away before he could.

Mick glared at her, but he wisely kept his mouth shut, letting the assassin do her work.

Sara slashed at the panel with one of the numerous knives she was never without.

Messy, but effective, as sparks flew from the shattered panel, but the door slid away.

"He needs medical attention," Snart said. Stating the obvious. He knew.

But then Sara was on her knees beside him. Snart let her take over, figuring there had to have been _something_ she'd learned in the area of treating wounds.

"Snart." Mick tossed Snart his cold gun. "Brought something for you."

Snart caught it deftly. "Good to see you partner."

Mick's eyes traveled past him, landing on Ray, and his jaw set. "Likewise."

"Mick." Sara caught their attention. "We need to get him back to _Waverider."_

Giving Snart one last glance, Mick marched to Sara, collecting Ray with surprising gentleness.

Ray groaned. "Hey, Mick," he managed.

"Haircut," Mick answered gruffly.

"He said one of you had been shot." Sara was suddenly at Snart's side. She met his eyes for just a brief second, her lips were pulled tight in a pencil thin line, and in that brief second Snart realized how worried she'd been. "I thought for a moment…"

She stopped before she went any further, eyes shifting to Mick's retreating form. Something told him she was afraid of revealing too much.

"We need to help him get back to the medbay," she said finally. "Rip and Firestorm have an escape ready, but there could be others."

"Yeah," Snart agreed, arms crossed. His eyes followed Mick, before sneaking a glance at Sara. Her face was unreadable.

Whatever she'd been about to say, it wasn't written on her face.

It was Sara, finally, who made the first move to follow Mick, and, after a three second delay, Snart was behind her, cold gun resting comfortably in his hands where it belonged.

Sara was right.

There still could be enemies on board (thought he doubted it… the team was thorough. He'd give them that.).

And, besides, once they were on board the _Waverider_ , Sara might be more willing to talk.


End file.
